Hugh clambered on to his raw-boned steed, known as "Close Up,"
because he would go so close to the buffaloes, and the procession
started. The five white men rode ahead, all smoking with great
enjoyment. Hugh was beside one of the shooters, and opened conference
with him.
"I've heard a lot about this business," said Hugh, "but never hoped
to see it. What are these Australian buffaloes? I thought they were
just humped cattle like those little Brahmin cattle."
"People reckon they're the Indian buffalo," said the bushman. "They
were fetched here about fifty years ago from Java--just a few pair,
and they were let go and went wild, and now they're all over the
face of the earth about here. We've shot six hundred of 'em--just
the two rifles--in six months. It's not play, I tell you, to shoot
and skin six hundred and cure their hides in that time. We'll get
a thousand this season."
"Good Lord," said Hugh. "Won't they be shot out?"
"Not they. There's about eight thousand of 'em shot every year
for their hides, and it's just like the ordinary increase of a big
cattle station. They're all over these plains, and for miles and
miles away down the coast, and in the jungles there's thousands of
'em. There's jungles here that are a hundred miles round, and no
animal but a buffalo will go into 'em. The blacks say that inside
them there's big patches of clear plain, with grass and water, where
there's buffaloes as thick as bees; but you can't get at 'em."
"How do you shoot 'em?" said Hugh.
"Race right up alongside 'em, and put the carbine out with one
hand, and shoot downwards into the loin. That's the only way to
drop 'em. You can shoot bullets into 'em by the hatful everywhere
else, and they just turn and charge; and while you are dodging round,
first you huntin' the buffalo, and then the buffalo huntin' you, the
rest of the mob are out of sight. You must go right up alongside,
close enough to touch 'em with the barrel, and fire down--so." He
illustrated with the carbine as he spoke. "And whatever you do,
don't pull your horse about; he knows the game, if you don't. Never
stop your horse near a wounded buffalo, either. They make a rush
as sudden as lightnin'. They look clumsy and big; but, my oath, a
wounded one can hop along something wonderful! They'll surprise
you for pace any time; but most of all when they're wounded."